


Reddie Stash

by punkpasta



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: M/M, mostly soft gay boys, other characters and pairings will be mentioned, rated mature just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:31:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12741072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkpasta/pseuds/punkpasta
Summary: All the richie/eddie stories i've written that are too short to post on their own! i'll put any triggers and any other characters and relationships with the stories.hey just an idea but you should check out my actual longer fics!!! theyre pretty good!





	1. 1. Higher

**Author's Note:**

> ch. 1 tags: tags: underage drug use, drugs, weed. they're both 16 in this situation.

Eddie Kaspbrak was anxious. He’d been anxious since he was a kid, but everything had risen exponentially after that summer. He was anxious and maybe by the time he was 16, every antianxiety medication his mom could get her hands on had stopped working. So maybe when his boyfriend told him he had a plan, he just nodded and got into Richie’s disgusting car after school on friday.

“Where are we going, actually? Because wherever it is, it had better not be a warehouse someplace. Last time you took me to a warehouse I ended up with hives and my mom thought it was shingles again.” he trailed off when they pulled to a stop in front of Richie’s garage. “Jesus, just opening the door is a safety hazard, what are you planning other than severe crush injuries?” 

“Shut up, Eddie.” Richie kicked the garage door, yanking it upwards. With a flourish, he presented the crowded room- concrete walls, piles of old boxes, and a futon with most of the blankets halfway off. Piles of clothes carpeted the floor, Richie-themed junk hanging off almost every surface. 

It wasn’t as if Eddie hadn’t  been in the garage before. He shook his head, ignoring the memories that tried to swim to the surface as his eyes swept over the disheveled room. But this time when he stepped under the garage door- hands over his head to protect from faulty lifting  mechanisms, as usual- he wasn’t sure if another few hours of on and off kissing and eating Ritz crackers was going to help. His anxiety had been mounting without the usual cocktail of pills and supplements. So maybe they’d helped a little bit, but every time he had to step out of class to take pills, he remembered the fanny pack he’d never retrieved. So he stopped taking them. 

So his anxiety just got worse. Mike called it PTSD- he said Stan stayed awake nights, whispering to himself in hebrew, sometimes going to the shower and scrubbing himself red. Mike said he had to hold Stan sometimes, rocking him back and forth until he could sleep. Mike said that sometimes Bill would start crying and just not stop, not for hours, and even Stan couldn’t help him. Mike said he sometimes had to go outside and sit on the ground and feel the grass so he knew he was alive.

Eddie reached for the hem of his shirt, finding the hole under the edge and pulling at the threads. 

“Come sit, welcome to the love-palace, baby boy.” Richie beckoned in his overdone sultry voice, tossing his head over one shoulder. Eddie sighed, sitting on the edge of the futon. 

“Here- and here.” He put heavy glass in Eddie’s hands. Heavy glass and cheap plastic and yeah, it was a pipe. 

“This isn’t sanitized, is it? Plus doesn’t this kill your brain cells? And what about cancer? What about throat cancer, Rich?” 

“Shut up.”

“No, really, this cannot possibly be good for your lungs. Or your brain and you need all the brain power you can get, Rich.”

“Shut up, babe. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want.” Richie grabbed the pipe and the lighter from Eddie’s hands. 

“No, Look-” Eddie started protesting but Richie had stopped listening- he was deeply focused on packing a bowl. Eddie sighed as Richie blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. 

He took the pipe from his boyfriend. “Just tell me how to do it- and go easy.”

“That’s not what you wanted last night.”

Eddie sighed. He tried to copy what he’d seen Richie do, tentative with the lighter (“I will burn my fingers off”) and inhale. Richie pulled the pipe away from his mouth (“Holy shit, Eds, are you trying to show off?”) and he coughed the smoke out of his body. 

He sighed, leaning back on his hands and letting himself feel almost floaty- maybe it was the closeness of the room, or the amount of smoke going into his face- Richie was definitely blowing it at him. He shoved one shoulder into the other boy and he set down the pipe, twisting onto one hip. Richie looked at his boyfriend, remembering the nights they had spent curled up on someone’s floor or couch or bed or Richie’s futon, when he waited for Eddie to fall asleep and then rested his head against the other boy’s thin pale back and whispered over and over, “mine, mine, mine.” 

Eddie was gazing just below Richie’s head with a dreamy smile plastered onto his face. 

“Are you high?” Richie asked, leaning towards him.

Eddie just laughed

“Wow. That was fast.” 

Eddie leaned in, put his lips close to Richie’s cheek

“Can i tell you something, Richie?”

“Sure.”

“I wanna kiss you.”

And Richie kissed him, slow and tender and sweet. He smiled, kissing back, and the dark-haired boy guided him down to the bed. The kiss deepened, and Eddie relaxed into his boyfriend’s touch. They’d kissed before, sure, but this felt different. Like Richie was holding him like some kind of lifeline, like two boys kissing in a dim basement was the answer to every question anyone had ever been too nervous to ask his English teacher. He felt like he was floating. 


	2. 2: All I Want for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 tags: mentioned underage drug use/drinking i guess? its implied very subtly. nothing really applies to this idk. characters are 14-15.

Nobody was entirely sure why they’d gone to the christmas party. It wasn’t at the house of anyone they knew, someone in the other ninth grade homeroom. Stan wasn’t going, of course, and it would probably be a Good Christian “party”. So none of the usual draws for Bev or Richie, and Mike wasn’t one for large groups of new people- and especially not the rich Derry kids. Ben was the only one who would have gone, but not without friends. And Eddie had an aversion to most of the usual teenage party activities. Nevertheless, the weekend before christmas, someone rich was throwing a party and five out of seven losers showed up. Ben's mom drove Ben, Bev, Richie, and Bill. they hadn’t expected Eddie to appear maybe twenty minutes later, alone, and wearing a terrible green sweater. 

When he got there, Bill was the first to see him and Richie was the first to yell about it. The other losers quickly crowded Eddie, pulling him into the thick of the festivities. Beverly shoved a cup of punch- ginger ale and lime sherbert, probably- into his hand and Ben tastefully festooned him in tinsel. 

Eddie wasn’t paying much attention. He’d had a plan- really, he’d been trying to figure it out for a while. Sure, it was a ninth grade christmas party. So there had to be at least one of two things- mistletoe or spin the bottle. Most of the parties that he’d been to had spin the bottle- or seven minutes in heaven, or something like that, and he’d always opted out. There was too much risk involved. 

It had been the host’s girlfriend’s idea to play a minute under the mistletoe. The game wasn’t entirely creative- just a walk in closet with a wreath on the door, mistletoe hanging from the shelves. Clusters of berries and leaves were taped to the ceiling. 

Everyone circled up, Eddie carefully situating himself next to Richie. They  argued for a few minutes about whether to draw numbers or spin a bottle. It ended with the bottle- and after almost an hour of giggling and blushing, most everyone had gotten tired of it. Richie was still cracking jokes, and Eddie snatched the bottle, spun it on the floor, and pointed it intentionally at Richie. His burst of carefully constructed confidence was fading, but Richie- by virtue of his position next to Eddie- saw the bottle. He turned to him, looked up through the hair flopping over his glasses. 

Eddie was ready to run when they made eye contact. All the planning- all of the time he’d spent hyping himself up, trying to talk himself into this. There was no way of knowing if Richie would have ever taken initiative- never mind the fact that Eddie couldn’t rationalize Richie liking him in the first place. 

When Richie picked up the bottle and stood up, Eddie’s hands started to sweat and he went even paler than usual. 

“Guess we gotta follow the rules, huh?” Richie grinned. Eddie tried to respond but no sound came out. He could have sworn he died right then, but Richie grabbed his hand, pulled him up, and started leading him towards the mistletoe closet. 

Richie was halfway towards a joke about coming out of the closet when he looked back at how petrified Eddie was. 

Richie shut the door behind them, reaching up to find the string and turn on the light. It glowed softly, the bulb covered by a layer of dust. 

Eddie closed his eyes and tried to breathe. He pulled out his inhaler, but Richie pushed his hand away. Eddie opened his eyes to protest, and before he could speak there was something there. 

Richie. Kissing him. 

They were under the mistletoe and in a closet and Richie was kissing him, and he was kissing Richie back. None of his plans had made it this far- after the premise for kissing Richie was set he’d blanked. Eddie had never kissed anyone- much less a boy. He’d spent at least four years trying to forget about the entire concept of kissing boys- and two years of that trying to stop wanting to kiss Bill Denbrough. There was something about richie though- maybe the way he laughed, or the way he called Eddie nicknames, or the times they had fallen asleep at a slumber party and woken up next to each other that had made it almost impossible for Eddie to not love him. 

Eddie put one hand on the back of richie’s neck, lifting himself onto his toes and trying to forget that there would be a time when he wasn’t kissing Richie Tozier. 

The time came. Richie opened his eyes, looking down to the other boy. Eddie’s blond locks had come disheveled, falling over his ears and forehead. Eddie still looked scared. Richie took his hand, pulled the shorter boy in for a hug. 

“Richie?’

“Yeah, eds?”

“I don’t-”

“I love you, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.


	3. 3. incredibly short chapter that isnt long enough for a title

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings. spin the bottle story. implied stenbrough. mention of alcohol (no actual drinking tho)

The first time Richie had kissed him had been at a party- they were sixteen. Eddie had never been kissed, and he still looked away when he saw Stan and Bill’s foreheads bump together.

It was spin the bottle in someone’s basement and maybe Eddie was stone-cold sober- but Richie was, too. So when the bottle landed on Eddie, Richie almost panicked. But he didn’t, he stood up and walked across the circle and he leaned in to Eddie’s ear-

“is it okay if i-”

“Yes.”

And Richie kissed him, for a fraction of a second, and everything that Eddie had been carefully sectioning off and burying deep in his mind where it didn’t even come out in his dreams was suddenly there- and suddenly true.

And then it was over, and Eddie was standing up to go to the bathroom, and he was crying into the mirror and he’d put the stopper in the sink and he was violently shaking his inhaler when the door opened.

“It’s me.”

Fuck and shit and fuck, Eddie thought, but he let Richie in- just like he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. But he did.

“I had no idea that my charms were so powerful, really though, is everything ok? I-”

Richie didn’t get a chance to finish before Eddie had two fists in his curls and his mouth was on Richie’s and hey, the entire house might actually be on fire right now but it didn’t matter because Eddie was kissing him. Eddie was kissing him and he was kissing Eddie back. And they were in the upstairs bathroom of some kid from the grade above them, with a stopper in the sink, and they were kissing and he could tell Eddie had been crying. They had left the bathroom and fallen asleep beside each other on the couch, and woken up there in the morning. And they kissed again, and again, and Eddie cried into Richie’s stupid looking shirts and nobody cracked jokes about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a sappy and cute one shot of richie and eddie waking up in the morning on winter vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings. theyre jsut really in love. college age. implied stanlon

He watched the sunlight filter through the curtains and lay along the curves in the face of the boy beside him. Eddie’s eyelashes cast feathered shadows along his cheeks, the blanket rising and falling gently under his chest. Richie leaned on one elbow, trying to ignore how creepy it was to watch Eddie sleep. 

Eddie sighed, shifting toward Richie. He looked at the gentle curve of Eddie’s mouth, his short nose with the barely-there freckles, the chunk of bangs that had fallen over his forehead. Richie swept his eyes down, along Eddie’s neck and over the exposed stretch of his chest. Richie edged forward, draping his arm over the blanket-covered hip of the other boy. 

“Hey Ed-head. It’s morning.” 

“Hrrmmpuh.” Eddie curled tighter, pulling the blankets against his chest. 

“You better stop looking so cute or I might just let you sleep all day.”

“Guh.” 

“Okay, okay.” Richie wrapped one arm around Eddie. He pulled the blanket over his own exposed shoulders and pulled Eddie’s head toward him.

“You’re like a little space heater” Richie murmured into Eddie’s hair. 

“Awuh?” 

“Shush.” Eddie settled himself against the other boy. 

Richie tangled his legs with Eddie’s. The two of them were wearing the christmas boxers Richie had picked up from the grocery store. Eddie’s red and white stripes read “santa’s helper” across the butt, and Richie’s green ones read “naughty or nice” on his hipbones. 

The house smelled like cinnamon. Most likely, Mike and Stan had gotten up early and made breakfast. Going to the same college hadn’t been a real discussion, but after all seven of them had applied and gotten in, Bill had mentioned it at their saturday movie night and everyone had decided to go. Mike and Stan shared a house with Richie and Eddie. Beverly, Ben, and Bill had all opted for the apartment building down the block- but more often than not, one of them was hanging around their kitchen or the living room. 

Richie lifted his head a bit, trying to catch the end of Stan’s long winded complaints about the christmas music on the radio. 

“Come baaack” Eddie whined. Richie flopped back onto the pillow and ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair. Eddie smiled and snuggled himself closer. 

“We have to get up someday, babe.”

“No we don’t. We can just be cuddling forever. No school and no work.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Richie settled himself around his boyfriend.  _ My boyfriend. He’s mine. And he’s my boy and I’m gay in love with him.  _ Richie smiled, his face full of Eddie’s blond hair. 

It had taken years and years of mutual pining to get where they were today. Years of long nights trying to find the right combination of jokes and fake flirting to get the message across. Years of conferring with Beverly on exactly how to confess. It had been Eddie who finally made the first move on a fateful night at one of the strange parties. It was a sort of romantic, mostly sloppy, sort of ridiculous night. Ben had collected at least fifteen dollars from the others when they all got back to Mike’s and Richie was holding Eddie’s hand. 

Eddie’s breathing slowed as he drifted off again. He’d been dreaming about a road trip over the past night. There hadn’t been a destination, and the car was almost as strange as the landscape around them. It was a dream, after all, and everything was a little warped. 

They had been in a clean, slightly off-center version of Richie’s grimy old toyota, going down an empty country road in the desert. The inside of the car was filled with random items, some from their old houses growing up and some from the house they lived in now and some that Eddie didn’t recognize. There was some kind of garbled music on the radio and a warped cooler at his feet. He remembered the happiness in the air- a feeling that even though he was dreaming, this could happen and if it did, he’d be happy. 

Richie relaxed into the bed. He’d wake up later and bring Eddie leftovers of whatever Mike and Stan had cooked, and they’d probably meet up with someone else that afternoon for a third round of christmas shopping. There was a lipstick he’d been meaning to buy for someone but he couldn’t remember who. 

Whatever it was, it’d have to wait. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aged up to around 16? underage drinking. eddie is wasted. hes so wasted holy shit. this is not like finished i just felt bad about not posting anything

Eddie was wasted. It wasn’t subtle, either, because Richie was pretty much carrying him down the stairs. Beverly and Ben had settled into the middle of the couch, passing a bottle between them to refill the cups they’d stolen from Bill’s kitchen. Bill himself was nowhere to be found, most likely upstairs with Stan and Mike.

“Whos the fucking… bag of potatoes?” Ben mumbled

“Excuse me?” Beverly’s drunkenness had several levels, and she was firmly set in the giggly level. By the end of the bottle, she’d be either asleep on Ben or crying on him.

“Shut up, dink.” Richie yelled over Eddie’s slumped shoulder. The smaller boy was almost delirious, trying to keep himself upright while also trying to plant a kiss somewhere on Richie’s face.

“Okay, baby boy.” Richie set Eddie down on the carpet, leaning him gently against the couch. Richie plonked himself behind Eddie on the edge of the couch next to Beverly, who had snuggled herself into Ben’s upper arm and fallen asleep. Ben was focused on making sure her head was tilted so she could breathe.

Eddie was somehow still conscious despite the half liter of orange soda and tequila sitting in his diminutive body. He had wriggled himself around and grabbed Richie’s jeans.

“Riiiiiichiiiieeee!” Eddie was trying to haul himself up using Richie’s clothes.

“What do you need, baby boy?”

“Come heeeere.” Eddie whined. He had made his way halfway up the couch, with both fists tangled in the bottom of Richie’s shirt. “I wanna kiss. Lemme in your lap.” Eddie was red faced and kind of adorable.

“You can come up on the couch if you promise not to blow chunks on it.”

“Proooomiiiise!” Eddie trilled. Richie hauled the other boy onto the couch and let him flop onto his lap.

“What are you doing?” Richie tried to look at Eddie, whose head was smushed into his collarbone. He’d shoved both hands under Richie’s shirt and was grabbing at his belt.

“I wanna… I wanna do kissing… please?” Eddie was completely stumped by Richie’s belt and had resigned himself to hooking his fingers in the belt loops and tugging.

“Richie, can you like, get a grip? Or something?” Ben was frowning at them from underneath Beverly, looking a bit ready to go to sleep himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, I’m doing it. Baby boy, you’re trashed. We are not doing kissing. Or whatever you were planning to do once you figured out how my pants work.”

“But I wanna. What’s the point of being boyfriends if we can’t do kissing?” Eddie frowned at Richie’s chin.

“We can do whatever you want in the morning. Come on. Its bedtime for Ed-heads.”

“Ooooooooh. The beeeeed.” Eddie did his best impression of a sexy voice, but ended up slurring the words together. Richie sighed and stood up, letting Eddie flop over. Eddie grumbled into the cushion. Richie scooped his arms under Eddie, lifting him over his shoulders and carrying him to the pile of blankets and the oversized bean bag chair in the corner. Eddie was unceremoniously dumped into the pile. He snuggled into the blankets and reached his arms out to the other boy.

“Richie?”

“Yes?”

“Come in the blankets with me.”

Richie lifted the blanket and set himself next to Eddie. Eddie looked less horny and more sleepy. Richie helped Eddie tuck himself in and rested his head back on the beanbag. Eddie was asleep now, making soft snuffling sounds and looking like he might cry every time Richie tried to stand up.

“Riiiiiiih… m sleeeee. Come.”

“Shh.” Richie wrapped one arm around Eddie. He’d managed to tangle himself in three blankets and Richie’s legs. Richie smiled into Eddie’s mussed hair. Usually he wouldn’t get this drunk, and Richie knew he’d have to take care of Eddie the next morning. Slutty drunk Eds was flattering, he thought, but his favorite was sleepy Eddie. Richie talked a big game about his dick- maybe too big- but the truth was that the best thing about his boy were the quiet moments. The soft moments, when they fell asleep together or cuddled after sex or just existed in the same space, near each other. 

Eddie’s eyelashes cast gentle shadows on his face. Richie could hear Bill’s house settling over them. Richie closed his eyes and let the drinks from earlier lull him into sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr at mlmtrashmouth and i love getting messages!! hit me up!!


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